To One Million
by reptilian.m
Summary: Colab. with immortalmoon44. Fang has a dangerous secret, can Max make things better like the hero she's supposed to be?  Self-harm, rape, torture, ect. Fax. Suckish summery, stories much better


**This is in collaboration with Immortalmoon44. More then half the credit goes to her ^^**

**We do not own Maximum Ride. JP does.**

**Immortalmoon: Who's we? Are we a 'we' now? We don't even know each other. **

**Reptilian: Aww… but we work so well together! Why shouldn't we be called partners?**

**Immortalmoon: Hmph. I guess your right. I still feel cheated. **

**Reptilian: How?**

**Immortalmoon: This is posted on your account!  
Reptilian: I don't have any stories yet. You have like, a million.**

**Immortalmoon: Hmph**

**Reptilian: if it makes you feel better, then I'll post a link to your profile. Happy now?**

**Immortalmoon: yes ^^**

**.net/u/2323814/Immortal_Moon44**

Chapter One: The Count

Wings beating with a vigor that told tales of ambition and freedom. Eyes scanning the ground below speaking stories of fear and paranoia. They were children as much as they were prey, running from their deadly stalkers. Running from their predestined graves.

Six pairs of wings, six beating hearts, six souls that whispered doom.

And yet they held love in those hearts, power in those wings, and hope in those souls. They laughed and smiled, they joked and played. They were a family, they were friends, and they were comrades.

Maximum Ride was the leader; it was her fate to be just that. She was to support and watch over them as the eldest, though perhaps not the most experienced.

Experience, it is gathered through pain and suffering. Sure, Max went through plenty of that, heck, they all did. But there was one particular child among them with more secrets then any of them could imagine. One with a past as dark as his raven hair and wings, one with scars to prove it.

His teeth were not sharp, but his mind was as piercing as a razor blade. Sharp as the fang of a tiger. Fang.

His eyes drifted over his friends and family, hands shoved in his pockets as he soared over the warm air currents.

They weren't paying attention to him, not a surprise. Fang was quiet and withdrawn; he wasn't truly a _part_ of the Flock, despite Max's words.

He always knew he was somewhat of an outsider, when he realized they had not experienced the same things he did. He thought differently, he spoke differently, he acted differently then all of they did, and perhaps if the things in his past hadn't happened, maybe he wouldn't be quite so… different.

Different, that was a slight understatement.

They could never understand why he did the things he did, besides, he didn't _want_ them to understand. If they _did_ understand then that would mean they felt the same things he did.

Fang smiled morbidly to himself. Felt the same things he did. Heh. That's one thing he wouldn't wish upon anyone. Except maybe… maybe a few. Yes, there were a few select people in which he hoped they suffered all he did and more so. He hoped they were damned to an eternity in hell.

"Fang! Come over here!" Max called from a ways ahead of him.

Fang rolled his eyes and gave a push of his wings, flying closer to her.

"Yo, what's up?"

"There's an abandoned cottage down there, you think we should spend the night there?" She asked, her chocolate brown eyes darted to my face.

"Why ask me?" He grumbled, frowning.

She glared at him.

"Sure, what ever." Fang finally sighed. "I don't care as long as we rest soon."

"Ok then. Everyone! We are now landing!" Max shouted.

The rest of the flock nodded and we prepared for our descent.

Fang felt a rush of exhilaration as he folded in his wings and allowed himself to swoop down towards the ground, opening his wings as he neared his landing spot to avoid a painful splat on the ground.

He landed on the balls of his feet with no sound, and watched as the others landed as well.

He turned away from them and studied the building. It was very old indeed, no wonder it was abandoned. Half the roof was missing and part of the wall had collapsed, but it would do for a group of runaway avian-Americans.

"Home sweet home!" Max whistled as she led us to the front door. She didn't bother opening it, she just kicked it in. Fang sighed.

They peered inside, it was dark and dusty, and there was an upturned table in the center of the main room, but it was better then most of the places they'd slept.

"Should we make a fire?" Gazzy asked, poking around. "I hate falling asleep in the dark."

Indeed the night was setting. Fang glanced out the cracked and cobwebbed window to see the sun slowly melting into horizon.

"I don't see why not. This place is to damp and moldy to catch fire by accident." Max replied. "Hey, Fang? Why don't you go find some firewood, `kay?" She glanced at me.

"Yeah, whatever." He grunted, but not regretting taking the job.

He slung his bag over his shoulder, and stepped outside, suddenly feeling grateful for the chance to get away from the rest of them.

Fang could feel the darkness welling inside him, pushing on him with that constant pressure that would forever remind him of his mistakes.

He sighed, closing his eyes as he walked into the small woods. The past… it would haunt him and torture him for the rest of his life. If only they knew… knew just _what_ he'd experienced in that seven year period of time.

He chuckled darkly, sitting down behind an old oak tree, and pulled a small object out of his bag.

If only they knew… knew his habit that accompanied those memories of those seven years. Knew just what he did to himself to relieve some of that pressure.

He watched the glimmer of the blade as he flipped open the penknife.

If only they knew…

What would they do? Fang could just imagine Max's face; she'd be enraged with him. She'd scold him and shout at him, maybe even be disgusted with him.

Fang laughed slightly. Oh she'd be so pissed. But then again… maybe if he explained, maybe she'd forgive him for what he had to do to himself.

With those thoughts in mind, he slid the knife across the scarred flesh of his wrist.

Cut number one thousand one hundred and twenty five.

He found himself chuckling again. Why did he keep track all this time? Was it some sadistic sliver inside him that wanted to cause him more pain? Perhaps. But more than likely it was because of the promise he'd made to himself, that his millionth self inflicted cut would be his last, because it would be the one to end his life.  
Cut number one thousand one hundred and twenty six.

He focused on the pain, and sighed when he felt his mental anxiety drain with the blood.

Just in case, he made one more slice then began wiping the blood off on the inside of his shirt, hiding the knife away in his pocket.

He thought absentmindedly to when he started this, it was sometimes in the two years they lived free and under Jebs care. Yeah… "care". But cutting wasn't his only defense to the pain and memories, he suffered through severe alcoholism and drug abuse, both problems he still struggled with to this day. He was doing better on that part though, never getting stoned or drunk more then once a week. He was quick amazed the others hadn't caught on yet, considering how bad it used to be.

After the dull physical pain subsided, he began searching for some firewood and kindling.

Max seemed concerned when Fang walked back into the cabin, and in a moment of fear he was thought that some sliver of his emotions was on his face, but calmed after she asked why it took so long.

"Most of the wood was wet." Fang replied, chucking the firewood in the middle of the floor.

"Oh. Hey Iggy, could you start on the fire?" Max asked, once again taking on her role as queen and leader. Not that Fang minded, not at all. He could never be the leader, it wasn't possible. If he could hardly take care of _himself_, how could he take care of his family?

"You ok Fang?" Iggy asked and Angel shot me a glance. "you seem off."

"I'm ok, just tired." Fang replied, throwing a look to Angel. She was the only one who knew about his bloody habit or his past, and even she didn't know much about the second thing. He tried as best he could to protect her from the horror that was contained in those seven years.

Angel had sworn not to speak a word to anyone about Fang's secrets, the young girl didn't understand much anyways.

Angel looked down, as she grew Fang knew she was beginning to understand just how bad Fang's situation was, and Fang also knew that the danger of her breaking and telling Max was growing in risk each time she peaked into his mind.

Fang looked away too, he knew Angel was starting to worry and he hated to worry her. She'd tried to get him to stop several times, but she was too young to understand.

Fang occupied himself by watching Iggy's nimble hands putting together the fire, but soon got bored off that. A bored Fang is always dangerous, though usual it was his own safety that was in question.  
So he went on to focus on something else, and found himself gazing at Max.

It was scaring him, the way his heart tugged and pulled when he looked at her. He knew enough to know that those were the signs of a possible love.

He didn't fear love… no, he feared _trusting_. If he fell in love then he'd fully trust, and truly he didn't trust _any_ one at the moment. Sure, the Flock were family and friends, but he could never actually trust them. Not after all that happened, he couldn't ever take the risk of being hurt that way again.

"Fang? Why are you staring at me? Is there something on my face?" Max jolted him out of his train of thought.

"Ah, no. Sorry, I spaced out." Fang muttered, jerking his eyes away from her puzzled face.

_We won't hurt you fang._ Angel's voice popped into his head.

_I told you not to listen in anymore Angel. You wouldn't understand. _Fang replied.

_I know those people hurt you, but we'll never do anything like that!_ Her 'voice' was scolding.

_I know, but like I said, you wouldn't understand Angel. Please… just leave me alone. _Fang thought back tiredly.

He was left alone with his thoughts again, after Angel gave him one last piece of information.

_She loves you too, you know._

Fang shook his head sadly, knowing it already. That's another reason why he was so afraid.

His second biggest fear after Trusting People, was Hurting People.

He couldn't let the ones close to him feel the pain he did. Not _ever.___

**~*xXx*~**

"Fang? Hey Fang!" A voice pulled me up from my uneasy sleep.

"What?" Fang hissed in an annoyed fashion, rubbing his eyes.

"You were talking in your sleep, I just wanted to be sure you were alright." Max replied, and Fang's eyes widened in panic. But nothing on her pretty face held any proof she'd heard anything that would hint to his secrets.  
"What'd I say?" Fang asked warily.

"Just some stuff. I couldn't hear most of it. I thought I heard Jeb's name, and something about… a beaded bracelet? It was weird." Max shrugged. "But you sounded scared, so I figured I'd better wake you."

"Oh." So he was dreaming about _that_. Go figure.

Angel was watching him, and Fang shot her an apologizing glance. She had probably listened in on his dream, which meant she was probably slightly scarred for life.

_Sorry about that Angel… you alright? _Fang thought.

_I only saw some of it. I stopped listening immediately as soon as I found out you were dreaming of _that_._ Angel replied. _I'm just worried about you._

_I'm fine._

"Fang? You spaced out again." Max waved her hand in front of his eyes.

"Eh, sorry." Fang apologized. "I've been pretty tired lately."

"Anything on your mind you wanna talk about?" Max asked, a slight blush tinging her cheeks. She wasn't good at this whole 'talk about our feelings' thing and Fang knew it.  
"Naw, it's nothing. Go back to sleep Max." Fang chuckled, and lay back down.

"Wait- Fang there's blood on your sleeve! Are you alright?" Max exclaimed, grabbing his hand.

Fang jerked it back quickly. His cuts must have opened up during the nightmare.

"Ah, I must of cut myself on a piece of glass." Fang replied sheepishly.

"Lemme look at it, it might get infected." Max tried to grab his wrist again but Fang stood up.  
"I'm fine Max. Just go to bed. It's no big deal." Fang replied, his voice hardening.

"Fang? Is something wrong?" Max stood up too, walking towards him.

Fang had to think fast. "I'm just sick of you acting like my mom Max. I can take care of myself!" _Liar_. Angel's voice pushed into his mind. _You oughta' tell her now!_

Fang ignored her and pushed past Max, heading outside.

"Wait! I'm sorry Fang! Where are you going?" Max pleaded, running after him.

"I'm going out. I need a breath of fresh air and I need to think. Don't follow me." Fang added sharply.

Max stopped where she was and watched him leave the cottage.

Fang's hand clenched around the knife in his pocket as he ran into the woods.

Oh how deep down he wished someone would find out about this… and save him.

**~*xXx*~**

"Angel… listen to me. I know you can look into Fang's mind, can you tell me what's up with him? He's been acting so out of it! I'd hate to invade on his privacy, but I'm starting to worry about him." Max cornered the girl she thought of as her daughter.

Angel hesitated, she promised Fang not to tell. She PINKY SWEARED she wouldn't tell! And yet… Fang was starting to scare her. Every time she read his mind it was a little darker, every time she peeked into his dreams they were about those things he refused to think about while around her.

About those seven years… about the life he lived without them ever knowing.

"Angel? Sweetie, please tell me what's wrong with Fang." Max begged again.

"Max…" Angel whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. "Max, Fang's sick."  
"Sick? Sick how?" Max exclaimed, and Angel put her finger to her lips.  
"Shh, Fang told me to keep this a secret! I'm only telling you this much because I think only you can help him." Angel breathed; glancing at the door Fang had left through.  
"Angel, dear, _please_ tell me what's wrong!" Max looked like she was at the brink of tears.  
"Max, I _swore_ I wouldn't tell! But it's really, really important you get him to tell you!" Angel said. "I'm afraid that if someone doesn't help him… there will be no more Fang for us to help."

**~*xXx*~**

(Fang's POV)

I sighed, wiping off my blade and tucking it into my pocket.

Cuts number one thousand one hundred and twenty seven, eight and nine.

Suddenly I heard a crash behind him and jumped when Max ran through the forest towards me.

"Fang!"

I hissed in panic, shoving my still-bleeding forearm under my coat. "What is it Max?"

Max stood next to me, still panting from having run all the way out into the middle of the woods to find me.

"Fang… I just spoke with Angel…" My heart plummeted and my blood went still and slowly froze.

"What? W- what are you talking about Max?" Shit! I was caught, I was doomed, it was all hopeless now. She'd found out.

"I'd… I'd asked her what was up with you… 'cause you've been acting so out of it lately… she said you were ill Fang. She said I needed to help you… else there 'wouldn't be anymore Fang to help'."

"Sick? Sick how? I'm perfectly healthy!" Fang snapped, maybe… maybe Angel kept her promise after all. Maybe he would be safe yet.

"She… she said she swore she wouldn't tell. Fang- you _have _to tell me what's wrong!" Max begged, and I cursed as a small tear trickled down her cheek.

"Listen, nothing's wrong-"

"Why are you hiding your arm Fang." Max interrupted, voice demanding.

I flinched, well aware the blood was still freshly flowing. "No reason."

"Fang…" She trailed off threateningly, and tried to pry my arm away from where it hid under my coat.

"Mess off Max, there's nothing wrong!" I argued, pushing her off me.

She hissed and pounced on me, pushing me to the ground. "Fang, you're hiding something!"

I struggled against her, and any other time I might have been able to overpower her, but I was still recovering from the mental pain that had forced my knife to my wrist.

Max grabbed my arm and held it up, staring at the blood-drenched sleeve. She slowly pushed the black fabric up, as I lay there helpless.

A small gasp escaped her lips as she stared at the ugly wound stretching across my skin, as well as all the hundreds of scars running up my arm. More tears followed the first.

"Max… it's not what it looks like…" I whispered stupidly.

"What does is it Fang?" She whispered, almost too calmly, but her eyes told a different story. Fear, grief, disgust, anger… and guilt. "What _does _it look like?"

"It's… it's…" I struggled for something, anything to magically make all my problems disappear.

"Because what it looks like…" She continued, voice cracking. "…it looks like you have something's to explain to me."


End file.
